


Repairs and Fabrications

by thetreesgrowodd



Category: MythBusters RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gen, Religious Conflict, Science Fiction, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetreesgrowodd/pseuds/thetreesgrowodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Jamie are rogue inventors in a world that rejects science and technology.</p><p>Jamie has painful secrets, Adam is running from trouble, they have incompatible working styles, and far more work than they can possibly handle. Is it disastrous, or amazing, or somewhere in-between?</p><p>With special appearances by Pest Control, the cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A distinctive sounding bell chimed in the distance, over the sound of pedestrians walking on the wooden sidewalk outside. Jamie put down the crossbow he'd been working on and stood up. He'd been waiting for the sound all day. It was early afternoon on the second Thursday of the month, and that meant it was time for Jamie's favorite trader to stop by on his route south. And none too soon. Jamie had a huge amount of projects to work on right now, and he needed supplies.

He locked the big double doors and flipped a small sign from "Open" to "Call Again Soon." A sign bracket protruding from the brick wall over the doorway was empty. Jamie had just been too busy to make a new sign. The old one, a handsomely made metal sign that read "Berryessa and Hyneman's Repairs and Fabrications" and in smaller print below that "We buy scrap metal and oddities" was now leaning against a wall behind a bookcase inside the shop, out of sight.

Jamie nodded to a few people as he passed them on the way to the main road that ran through a wooded area outside of town. Tory rarely brought his wagon into town anymore. The taxes on sales inside of city limits, and a general disapproval of foreign goods were bad for business. Jamie was his one regular customer on this stop on his route.

Jamie could see the wagon now, the gray mare pulling it, and the familiar driver. But someone unfamiliar was sitting next to him. Jamie peered down the road. It looked like a young man dressed all in black despite the heat, with a wide-brimmed hat, swinging his legs carelessly. Jamie raised a hand, and Tory waved back, then rang the bell a few more times.

Suddenly there was a loud bang from the wagon. Jamie jumped. The horse scrambled into a wild gallop, the wagon bumping behind. The stranger slid off and landed in a crouch in the road, while Tory struggled with the reigns. The wagon lurched onto the rough shoulder and then hit the trees, breaking free from the horse with several loud cracking sounds and thrashing branches.

Jamie broke into a run to help them, scanning the sides of the road for attackers - was that a gunshot? The stranger got to his feet and picked his way to Tory through the spilled merchandise and wreckage of the wagon. "What was that?" Jamie shouted. "Are we under fire?"

"I think something exploded inside the cart," the stranger called back.

Tory sat up looking dazed, as both men reached him. "I'm alright, just knocked the wind out of me."

"Are you sure?" Jamie asked. Tory nodded, so Jamie turned to the stranger. "Are you injured?"

"No, just a little caught by surprise."

"Oh no, is Mags ok? Oh, god, my wagon," Tory moaned.

"Sit here and make sure you're ok and we'll take care of it," the stranger said, looking into Jamie's face for confirmation. Jamie nodded, and they followed the mare into the woods.

"Wow, did you see that?" the stranger said. "That was insane."

"It looked worse than it was, from what I could see," Jamie said. "The cart looks repairable, but I don't know about the merchandise or the horse."

It took a while to round up Magnolia. They found her shivering in the woods, still trailing some pieces of the wagon behind her. Jamie approached her slowly, speaking soothingly, and took hold of her reigns. They checked her legs and hooves for damage and found none, and unhitched her from the debris so it wouldn't spook her more. Then they walked back, both holding her reigns in case she tried to bolt again.

"See, you're alright now," Adam said, patting her muzzle. "We'll get you back to Tory."

They found him limping around the wagon. He was very glad to see the horse safe and tethered her securely some distance away. Tory stayed with her to keep her calm. The other two men inspected the damaged wagon.

"It isn't bad," the stranger called to Tory. "In fact, I think we can fix it!" He glance at Jamie. "That is, if you have time?"

Jamie didn't, but this was more important. He'd get all of his work done somehow. He held out his hand over the wreckage. "It looks like we're a team, Mister..."

"Savage," the stranger said with a grin, shaking his hand. "That's a name, not a character trait, although some might disagree. Adam Savage."

Jamie chuckled a little and introduced himself too. They began unloading the wares onto the side of the road so they could make repairs. "Careful, whatever made that bang in here could still be dangerous."

"Tory, you keep loaded firearms in here?" Adam called.

"No!"

"Then, what could it have been?" Adam wondered, scanning the rubble.

"Well, there's your problem," Jamie said, picking up a tin of fruit that had ruptured violently and sprayed its contents everywhere.

"Oh, no way," Adam said, laughing. "That is horrifying! Look at that jagged edge! That could have taken somebody's head off." He took it from Jamie and looked at it. "Could it have been vibrations from bumps in the road reacting with the can's natural resonance... or the sound of the bell... but that seems unlikely."

"Plausible, maybe," Jamie said. "But my money's on the hot sun heating it up until the pressure inside rose so high that the can couldn't take it. Probably had a preexisting weak spot."

Soon they found Tory's toolbox and got to work. Jamie was impressed with Adam's ingenuity and creative methods, not to mention the sturdiness of his repairs. But Jamie wanted something more substantial.

"Tory, now that she's rolling again, why don't you bring it to my shop and I'll fix her for real?"

"Thanks, man, but I have to get to the next town by tonight, and I've got a buddy there who can do it. He owes me. So if you two say it'll hold together until then, I'll believe you. I couldn't think of any better guys to have around when something like this happened."

"It'll hold man," Adam said, "as long as Mags doesn't spook again."

"Be real careful. The road hasn't been safe lately." Jamie bought several things from Tory that they'd arranged last time. Most of them had survived the crash intact.

Among other things, Tory handed over a small paper wrapped package. "Man, these hats are hard to come by, Jamie. Even I can only find one guy that has 'em, and he can only get 'em from overseas. Well, I think that's it. Adam, you coming to the next town?"

"Nope, I think I'll try here. Thanks again."

"Well, if it doesn't work out you can bum another ride with me in two weeks."

They exchanged goodbyes. Jamie realized he'd lost the better part of the afternoon. The sun was setting. Tory would be delayed a few hours on his route. But Jamie, who had already planned on working late into the night, was now looking at an all nighter. He began picking up his packages.

"Want me to carry some of that?" Adam asked. He only had a small pack slung over his shoulder.

"Nope," Jamie said, lifting it all himself. They began walking back to town.

"So... know any place I can stay here? Or work I can do?"

"Well..." Jamie thought. "There's an inn on Trapper Boulevard you can stay at. I don't know about work though. Word gets around pretty fast here, and I haven't heard about anybody needing any done..." except everybody who keeps piling more work onto me, he thought. "Although..." Jamie trailed off.

"Yeah?" Adam prompted after a silence.

"I'm thinking," Jamie said shortly. Actually he was having an internal dispute. He didn't want a stranger in his shop, messing with his stuff, touching his tools, maybe even sitting at that presently vacant desk. But on the other hand, this was a brilliant opportunity. This guy seemed decent, he was level headed in an emergency, and he obviously had skill. Besides, if things didn't work out, he could just pack him onto Tory's wagon in two weeks.

Adam humored Jamie. They walked through the outskirts of town in silence, Adam taking everything in. A few people, out late, stared at him through the twilight. When Adam couldn't stand the silence anymore and had just opened his mouth to ask a question, Jamie finally spoke again.

"Would you like to work for me?"

Adam beamed. "Yeah! I mean, what kind of work do you do? No wait, I don't even care, I need whatever I can get. Yes, I'd love to work for you! And I thought finding a job was gonna be hard!"

"I do general repairs and custom building. Basically people come to me with things that are broken, or with ideas for inventions, and I make it happen. The work includes smithing, woodworking, engineering... a little of everything, really."

Adam stared at him, openmouthed. "If you had just asked me to describe my dream job... it would have been pretty damn close to that."

"We're here." Jamie let them in and put the packages on his desk near the door. Adam followed him, taking off his hat. Jamie stretched out his hand. "Welcome aboard."


	2. Chapter 2

"Welcome aboard." Adam and Jamie shook hands enthusiastically.

"Well, this is the shop," Jamie said, turning on the lights.

"It's beautiful. It's amazing." Adam stared at everything.

The shop was efficiently arranged, despite the room itself being an odd shape. It seemed to have been wedged between the buildings that surrounded it. Jamie's desk sat in a small reception area by the front door, separated from the rest of the room by a low, gated railing. Behind the desk were a few rows of shelves, and a staircase leading up. The rest of the floor was the workshop, with several neatly lined up workbenches, a second desk, more shelves full of books, and labeled crates stacked high against the walls.

"I'll need some time to get your workspace ready. I wasn't anticipating hiring anyone, but as you can see, I've gotten a lot of orders recently." Jamie pointed to the shelves behind his desk, which were filled with devices of all shapes and sizes in various states of disrepair, from everyday household items to things Adam couldn't identify. "These are the incoming shelves here, things that need to be repaired. But there are also work orders for offsite jobs, or designs for things to be made from scratch in these ledgers here, so there's actually more work to do than what you see on the shelves."

Adam nodded several times and picked up a broken clock. "This is so great. I could spend hours just looking at everything!"

Jamie cleared his throat, wishing Adam would look with his eyes and not his hands. "Now, I want to be clear," he said, "I don't need a partner. This will only be a temporary job until we can make some headway on these projects. Maybe two weeks or so."

Adam's heart sank. He put down the clock and turned to look at Jamie. Damn. It had seemed too good to be true.

"But you'll get room and board here in addition to pay, and you'll have yourself some time to find something permanent." Jamie took some papers from the bottom of his desk drawer and picked up a pen.

"What about keeping me on longer?" Adam asked.

"I suppose that's not outside the realm of possibility," Jamie said, hesitantly. "But it's going to depend on the amount of business coming in and the quality of your work, and then still..."

"Still...?"

"Still you'll have to convince me to do it," Jamie said bluntly. "Follow me. Let's have some dinner."

The upper floor was the living quarters, plain and practical. There was a kitchen area with a long wooden table, a couch, and two doors leading to smaller rooms.

Jamie pointed at one of the doors. "You can use the guest room."

Adam went inside, shrugging off his knapsack and realizing just how tired and sore he was from the accident earlier.

"Light's on the right side of the door. And Pest's probably in there, don't sit on him!" Jamie added.

"What?" Adam said, as his fingers found the light switch. A gray cat turned to glare at him from the bed. The room was small and square with bare walls and minimal furniture. There was one window, and in the fading evening light, he could see a tree so close its branches almost touched the glass, and a tall featureless brick building beyond it. Adam put down his bag and hung up his hat. "Hey, kitty," he stretched his fingers toward the cat's muzzle, but it turned away from him.

"What's the cat's name?" Adam asked coming back into the kitchen.

"Doesn't have one." Jamie set a basket of rolls and two bottles of beer on the table.

"But didn't you just call him...?"

"I call him Pest Control, but that's a title, not a name. I don't want rats in the shop." Jamie put a dish into the oven. "The oven and kiln are not interchangeable," he said suddenly. "Just a little point of advice."

"Yeah," Adam said, biting into a roll. He was starving. Jamie turned his chair backwards and straddled it, arranging the paperwork on the table in front of him.

"Now, you proved today that you know your stuff, but what's your actual practical experience?"

"Oh well," Adam said around a mouthful of bread, "my dad was a clock maker and my uncle was a handyman and I helped them out practically since I could stand."

Jamie made a note, and they worked their way down the page. It was mostly mundane stuff, terms of employment, pay rate. Jamie never asked anything personal, not even why Adam had come to town alone and without much of a plan for his future. By the time it was done, whatever was in the oven was starting to smell great. Jamie took the form into the other room and came back with something.

He solemnly set a key on the table. "That's a key to the shop. But before you take it, I'll need some collateral."

Adam stared at him. "What? Seriously?"

"Yup. Do you think I want to come home and find all my stuff missing."

"I'm penniless and homeless." Adam said, dryly. "What kind of collateral are you expecting, exactly?"

"You must have a pocket watch. Surely no clock maker's son goes out into the world without one," Jamie said, gruffly.

"I do. And I need it, but..." Adam frowned and took it out of his pocket. "Here. I need a place to stay and a job more at the moment," he muttered. Jamie put it into his pocket without giving it a second look. Adam took the key, feeling a lot less enthusiastic about this situation.

The food was quite good, although the conversation was stilted. After dinner, Jamie showed Adam a few things he might need - the rig outside the kitchen window that let him haul up water from the well without having to go downstairs, the outhouse in the small yard behind the shop (for that, he would have to go downstairs, Jamie told him firmly. Water may be brought up to the second floor window, but the reverse was unacceptable), and he put fresh linens on the bed for Adam, which thankfully dislodged Pest Control.

Jamie went downstairs to work, and Adam tried to get comfortable in the unfamiliar bed. He wondered what everyone back home was doing without him.

* * *

Adam was trying to repair Mrs. Breckenridge's second best cooking pot. He wasn't sure what had happened to it, but it looked like someone had vented a lot of anger on it. He understood that, as he was already frustrated at being given nothing but mundane work, rules and safety lectures all day. He put that energy into hammering out a dent and imagined some wild scenarios that might have caused the damage to the pot. When he paused, he was surprised to hear voices in the shop. He looked up and saw Jamie talking to a man near the door.

"...not that I'm displeased with the work you did, Mr. Hyneman, it's just that my family looked at it and they're concerned. They insisted that I come talk to you about it, so I thought maybe we could... you could... find a.... different way... of doing it." Each time he paused, as if waiting for Jamie to break in, he was met with only Jamie's cool stare and silence.

The man fidgeted with his hat. "Oh, we haven't spoken to the pastor yet, and we don't want to, so don't worry. We thought we'd come to you first and see if we can come up with, um, an alternative course of action."

"You wanted it to work more efficiently, and it does," Jamie said. "So now you want it to be just as efficient, but in some less obvious fashion, is that right?"

"Not less obvious, just um, more proper."

Adam set down his tools, feeling like someone needed to step in. He joined them by the door. "What's going on?"

"I apparently need to redo a job in a more primitive fashion," Jamie explained.

"More, you know, traditional methods," the main said. "My wife insists."

"Fine, just give me a minute to get things squared away here," Jamie said, grabbing a ledger from his desk and making some notes.

"I'll just wait outside," the man said, stepping out the door.

"What's this all about?" Adam asked, quietly.

"It's about the traditional, old-fashioned, rustic, proper way of doing things," Jamie muttered. "We wouldn't want to upset anyone by making something too scandalously efficient."

"What, seriously?"

"Yeah. Just when I think people are starting to come around a little, this happens. Usually after a big sermon about the evils of stretching beyond what man was meant to achieve." Jamie closed the ledger.

"Damn. I've known a few people like that, but nobody ever cared, as long as things weren't too extreme."

"Yeah well in this town, it's not about caring or not caring. It's the law," Jamie grumbled, getting his gloves and toolbox. "Look, I'll be gone for a few hours. Finish up your current project and the next one, and if there's time left then use it to learn your way around the shop."

Adam finished the work Jamie had left for him. Afterwards, with nothing else to do, he wandered around the shop looking at things. Amid the books neatly arranged on the shelves he found sketchbooks. He sat on the floor and paged through them, amazed. They were beautiful, even the most basic mechanical diagrams were graceful and elegant, with no wasted pen stroke. They were brilliant. And they were unmistakably Jamie's, each one signed, dated and labeled.

The ones that really surprised him were the fanciful things, Flying devices with ribbed wings and tiny scale figures pedaling away, or clusters of balloons that strapped to tiny people. One showed a man reading a book and sipping a cup of tea in a cozy room inside a flying apparatus. Adam would have liked to frame that drawing and put it on his wall.

There were designs for devices to enhance the wearer's running speed, strength, and the length of their reach. Diagrams showed firearms of all descriptions, from cannons that could be carted around, to wrist-mounted pistols that fired with the squeeze of the fist. Other pages showed traveling devices that could take passengers under the sea and then return them safely to land, or through fire while keeping the occupants cool.

Adam was particularly fascinated by the sketches that juxtaposed the fantastic devices with technical diagrams. Jamie had clearly put a lot of thought into how one might make them work, although he hadn't solved all the problems. Some were rounded out with watercolor backgrounds. Men held their hats as propellors scattered leaves. Machines towered over houses with occupants staring in awe out of windows. Jamie had captured human emotion just as adeptly as metal and wires.

When the door opened, Adam looked up from an open sketchbook in surprise. He had completely lost track of time and his surroundings. He and Jamie stared at each other.

"Woah, what time is it?" Adam asked.

"Late enough for you to have finished your work," Jamie said flatly.

"Oh," Adam said, smoothing down his hair. "That. Yeah, it's all done."

Jamie looked like he was going to say something. Adam expected Jamie to get angry at him for looking at his things, and figured he would deserve whatever Jamie said. But Jamie only hesitated, set down his toolbox, and went upstairs without another word.

"You told me to learn my way around the shop," Adam called after him, belatedly. "I wasn't snooping." But Jamie was already out of sight, and Adam didn't know what his reaction was. He closed the sketchbook that lay open on his lap, and started putting all of them away as he had found them. He struggled to connect the things he'd seen there with the gruff man he'd spent the past few days with.

* * *

As Adam was trying to fall asleep that night, the thought popped into his mind that it was very strange that Jamie had stated so strongly that he didn't want a partner, when the shop was so clearly designed for two people. Two desks, two sets of tools, two bedrooms...

Just then someone knocked on his door.

"Yeah?" Adam asked, groggily.

"Clean up your mess before you go to sleep," Jamie called through the closed door.

With something between a sign and a moan Adam sat up. "What mess?" By the time was on his feet and out the door, Jamie was long gone.

Adam went downstairs. Jamie was still working. Didn't he ever sleep? Adam looked around his work area, thinking he must have completely forgotten to clean up something major. "All right, I give up. What mess did I supposedly leave?"

"All that," Jamie said, pointing at the workbench Adam had been using earlier.

Adam stared at it, feeling stupid. "That's my toolbox. With my tools in it. Where I put them, neatly, when I finished using them."

"Goes in the closet when you're not using it."

"I'm going to use it again first thing in the morning, which at this point is really only a few hours away," Adam said.

"Sweep up the dust too. Into the trash, not onto the floor." Jamie didn't even look up from whatever he was doing. "Oh and put shoes on next time, the shop floor is too dangerous for bare feet."

Adam sighed, too tired to argue. Making as much noise as possible, he put the toolbox away and swept up a fine sprinkling of grit from something he had sanded earlier. Then, theatrically, he wiped his finger across the surface, and peered at it closely with a concerned expression on his face and a long "hmmm." Jamie ignored him entirely.

Adam stomped back up to bed. Pest Control was sprawled across the center of it. "Oh, that's it," Adam muttered, and reached out to pick up the cat. Pest hissed and swatted at Adam's hand. Undeterred, Adam scooped up the cat saying, "Yeah, you're every bit as friendly and charming as your owner," then dumped him out the door, shutting it behind him.

* * *

"Hey Adam. Are you at a stopping point?"

"I am..." Adam gave his project a final tweak with a flourish. "Now!" It was Adam's third day. Jamie had given Adam some more interesting projects, and it had improved his mood, although they had mostly worked in silence. They were making some progress on their projects, but more were coming in all the time. Jamie was sitting at his desk looking over some paperwork, revising his schedule and trying to prioritize various things. Adam walked over to Jamie's desk.

"Well, I'm going to need you to make some deliveries and come with me on some offsite jobs in the next few days. Now... I notice those are the same clothes you've been wearing all week and I assume you don't have any others."

"I changed my underwear."

"And I appreciate that. But how about if I give you your first week's pay a little early, and you go buy yourself some new clothes."

"What, right now?"

"Yeah, before the shops close. I really don't care what you wear around here, as long as you're not going naked and you have all the necessary safety gear, but when we're dealing with clients outside of the shop, I'd like for you to look professional." He handed Adam an envelope.

Adam looked at the cash inside and raised an eyebrow. Then he cleaned up his work space, put on his hat, and gratefully escaped into the town. He'd only seen bits and pieces of it so far, and he explored, automatically adding to his mental map as he went. It was a quiet town, laid out with straight, evenly spaced roads. At the center was a pavilion and a large church which was also city hall. Around it were commercial buildings, then a gradual transition into the residential area. An energetic stream ran through the east side, and from the top of the bridge that arched over it the town looked very picturesque.

He saw a hat shop, a men's barbershop and bath house, and a general store, which was the only place he'd been to in town, on a food run for Jamie. He stopped and bought some personal items and snacks for himself. Next was a clothing store, where he bought some things that were to his liking and possibly would be acceptable to Jamie. By far the best was the second hand store Adam found on a side street. He happily picked out an armful of interesting junk - the kind of stuff his mother would have thrown out if he'd come home with it as a teenager.

The sun was low in the sky when Adam left. He wasn't ready to go back to the shop yet, but he was out of places to explore. He walked back slowly, nodding at a few of the friendlier looking pedestrians he saw. Some nodded back hesitantly, but a lot of them just stared at him. He went into a pub where people were starting to gather, and sat at the bar. The pretty barmaid brought him a beer, and Adam tried unsuccessfully to strike up conversations with the people on either side of him. Everyone here seemed to know each other and not have much time for strangers.

"People here are awfully set in their ways." The barmaid smiled across the bar at Adam.

"So I see," Adam said, smiling back.

"My advice?"

Adam nodded and leaned forward. "Yeah?"

"They need to be shaken up sometimes. Give them something to gossip over, shock them a little. Nothing too bad, just enough so they notice you."

"I get it. So I need to be the mysterious stranger who comes into town and sweeps a pretty girl off her feet, then breaks her heart." Adam gave her a crooked smile. "Pissing off all the young guys who had been eyeing her for years and making the old ladies whisper over their fences?"

"Something like that."

"So, are you free tonight?" Adam asked, half jokingly.

She planted a hand on her hip and waved her finger at him, laughing. "See, you've got the attitude already."

Adam shrugged, with a cheesy smile.

"I'm assuming you're Hyneman's new assistant."

"You've heard of me?"

"People are talking about you already, and that's good. Now give 'em some time, and they'll warm up eventually."

Adam nodded and sipped his beer. "What about Jamie. Does he warm up?"

"He giving you a hard time?" she asked, knowingly.

"Not exactly. But he's not the easiest person to get along with."

"Well, with Jamie, I think he's the type whose trust and friendship really have to be earned. And that can take a while."

"I don't know if I'm going to be here long enough for that to happen."

She frowned. "That's too bad. He's had a rough time and he keeps to himself way too much these days. It'd be good for him to have someone there for him, making sure he sees the bigger picture now and then."

Adam sipped his drink, unsure of what to say. Maybe he'd judged Jamie too quickly.

"You want a refill?"

"No, thanks though. Hey, actually, can I order some food to go?"

Adam ordered dinner for two, then left the rest of his money as a tip. That sounded impressive, but really he'd spend almost all of it earlier. He walked home feeling a little more relaxed. Jamie was at his desk when Adam got back to the shop.

"Still working?" Adam asked, setting down his packages and hanging his hat on the peg by the door.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Come on. I was feeling unexpectedly nice tonight." He held out the paper bag enticingly. "I got us food. Come on, I know you like your gruel, but real food will do you good. We haven't had a full meal since my first night here." He grabbed Jamie's arm and pulled him toward the steps. Tired, Jamie followed Adam upstairs and they sat down to eat.

"So I got some new clothes," Adam said around a mouthful of his sandwich. "The guy at the store was really helpful, after I said your name. And he showed me the tile you replaced for him."

"Yeah. They dropped something on it, smashed it up good."

"It might have been my imagination today, but everyone was staring at me."

Jamie swallowed. "I was under the impression that you liked being the center of attention."

"Maybe, maybe," Adam said, nodding. "But I like to know why I'm the center of attention."

"They've never seen that color hair before."

Adam ran his hand over his head. "What, seriously?"

"Well, yeah. And you're new here and you kinda look different. We don't get many new people here." He dipped several french fries into ketchup and bit into them.

"There's not much going on here, is there? Maybe I will move on, when Tory comes back through. I mean, no offense to you, but this job hasn't been as exciting as I thought at first."

"That's the reality of the work. A lot of it is just hard and mundane." Jamie shrugged.

Adam sipped his beer and set it aside, distracted. "Don't you ever want to build any of those things you drew?"

"I have."

"You have?"

"Sure. A lot of those diagrams were of things with very practical uses."

"No," Adam waved his hand, vaguely. "I mean the other stuff. The flying machines and things like that?"

"I probably shouldn't have let you see them."

"But they're really, really good. I would love to build stuff like that. Even if it didn't work, man it would be so worth it just to try."

Jamie unfolded and refolded his napkin. "I used to think like you."

"What changed?"

"Look at it this way. Would it be worth ruining your reputation? Worth getting arrested for?"

"Yeah," Adam said, defiantly. "A real inventor would--"

"No. It's not worth it. I know, because it happened to me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prior to this chapter, this had been an unupdated WIP for well over 2 years. I never intended it to be, because I was always fond of it and had a fairly complete (if sketchy) rough draft. I'm going to attempt to finish it, or at least get it to a reasonable conclusion. Thank you for sticking with it.

"Jamie! What on earth did you invent that got you _jailed_?!" Adam asked.

"What it was isn't important now. What _is_ is that you remember it. I've had to work long and hard to rebuild my reputation and get people to trust me — and hire me — again," Jamie said.

"Well, they do. I can tell."

"You don't want to have to go through all of that. Stick with the tried and true methods and materials for a project. Take the most basic approach you can."

"I just can't believe — man, Jamie, I can't picture you doing something like that." Adam nearly laughed out loud with the enjoyment of having uncovered Jamie's rebellious past.

"Look, we both know that people believe all kinds of malarkey. Someone tells 'em something is true, and they repeat that story and so on. Sometimes it doesn't matter how logical you are, you just can't convince them that it's not true. Well that's how this is. They've believed for so long that if we advance our knowledge and abilities too far, we're going against God's will. But me," Jamie studied his hands as if answers were hidden in the design of the human body. "I figure... that whatever created me gave me both a brain and a conscience that work just fine to tell me when I'm doing something wrong. But I've never felt that there was the slightest thing wrong where inventing was concerned."

Adam digested this, his glee with Jamie's past gone. No matter how well Jamie disguised it, Adam had caught both passion and regret in his voice. There was pain in Jamie's past, and maybe in his present, and Adam could sympathize. He resolved anew to get on Jamie's good side, and get himself hired on permanently.

"If you'll wash up, I can get back to my projects," Jamie said gruffly, standing up.

Adam sighed. "Yeah, sure."

"I'll have a new job for you in the morning," Jamie said, already descending the stairs.

* * *

Adam woke to the sound of an explosion. He flailed under the covers, not sure which way was up and which was down. He caught a glimpse of Pest's puffed-up tail vanishing out of the door as he managed to sit up. He was in his room at Jamie's shop, it was bright and sunny out, and — _BANG!_ — there was the sound of gunfire in the backyard.

Adam got up, the tangled bedclothes trailing after him and crossed the room to the window, remembering at the last second to keep himself out of sight — just in case bandits were making a raid on the shop. Or whatever. He peeked around the windowsill, heart pounding.

Down in the yard below was Jamie, wearing a heavy black apron over his bare chest and trousers, large, dark-tinted goggles, his standard lopsided hat and something like black earmuffs. He was aiming a gun at a target pinned onto one of many bales of hay that were sitting against the tall brick wall behind the shop. He looked like — Adam didn't even know what!

Adam cursed and sat down on the floor. The adrenaline surge had left him feeling like he'd been hit in the chest with the broad side of a board. He'd been in a deep sleep, probably the best sleep he'd had since he'd been here. _BANG_!

Angry, Adam jumped to his feet and stomped out of his room, grudgingly stopping only long enough to put on trousers and a shirt which he didn't bother to button. When he reached the steps, though, he remembered Jamie's rules about bare feet in the shop, and stopped to pull on his shoes without socks, muttering curses to himself.

Down in the shop, the closest door to the backyard had a piece of paper stuck to it: WARNING! DO NOT USE THIS DOOR. Adam considered pulling it down and disregarding it, but he went around to the side door by the kiln.

_BANG!_

"JAMIE!" Adam waved his hands to get Jamie's attention. Jamie slid back his earmuffs. "What are you doing?!" Adam shouted.

Jamie glanced at Adam. "Shooting us some breakfast, of course. Put those on." He pointed vaguely at another set of the ear protectors with his finger, sitting on a bench behind Adam.

"What?!"

"Maybe some nice pheasant?" Jamie put the earmuffs back on, giggled — actually _giggled_! —and aimed again at the target. Adam jumped and barely got the ear protectors on in time.

_BANG_!

"What?!" Adam shouted again.

Jamie lowered the gun, took off his hearing protection, and gave him a long look. "We get a lot of guns that have been damaged or have aim that's gone squirrelly. I tune 'em up, then test 'em."

Adam looked around, feeling stupid and groggy. "Wait, were you joking about breakfast?"

Jamie stared at him (or at least Adam thought he was staring. It was hard to tell with the goggles). One hair of his mustache twitched. Then, as if Adam hadn't spoken, Jamie continued. "It's very important that we test them safely. A damaged gun can be dangerous. Never, ever use the door at this end of the shop if I'm out here firing. And if you ever handle any of the firearms, which you won't, never aim a gun, loaded or unloaded, at anything you don't want to kill."

"Yeah, I know how to handle firearms safely."

"Well, I'll tell you right now, you'll learn how to handle them _even safer_ working for me."

Adam sighed deeply. "I was sleeping. You know it's like 5 am, right?"

"7:19, actually. Everybody around here gets up before seven. Except you."

"You know there's about fifty alarm clocks in the shop, right?"

"This is the only time of day I can shoot," Jamie explained. "After folks are up, but before the start of the business day. The sound of gunfire drives customers away from the neighboring businesses, so I have to get an early start."

Adam collapsed onto a bench. It was freezing cold, but he was too tired to care. Or to argue with Jamie any more. He just put the hearing protectors back on and watched as Jamie fired at the target.

When Jamie seemed satisfied with the aim, he set the gun down and picked up some apples that had fallen from the tree. He set them on a crate in front of the bales of hay, and shot each one cleanly. Adam wasn't surprised that Jamie was a good marksman; Jamie was good at everything. _Aside from being a human being_. But when Jamie plucked another apple from the tree, took a bite out of it, then set it on the crate and aimed at the bite mark, Adam rolled his eyes. Jamie was showing off.

_BANG_!

Jamie hit the apple at the dead center of the bite mark. And grinned like a madman.

* * *

After Adam had a quick breakfast, he went down to the workshop. Jamie got out the folder that had the information about the special project he was giving to Adam. He spread out the contents on a workbench.

“So,” Jamie said, “This grandfather clock has been specially commissioned as a wedding present. I figured you know clocks, but this will require quite a bit of decorative carving as well. The rose and oak motifs represent both of the families. I've already drawn up the design. I'll do the carvings, unless you want to give them a try?"

Adam took in the diagrams and sketches. They matched the style he’d seen in Jamie's sketchbooks, just as clear and precise and beautiful. “I can do this. Yeah, I can totally do this.”

"This is going to require your best effort. Absolutely the best of the best. I want you to ask me first if there’s anything you don’t understand. Don’t guess.”

“Jamie. I know I’ve only worked here a few days, but don’t you know by now that I can get stuff done?”

Jamie eyed him. “You’ve done ok so far, once you get done monkeying around with each project —"

"'_Monkeying around_?'"

"— But I haven’t trusted you with anything like this before. Normally, I’d work you up to a project like this gradually.”

"Hold it, let's go back to that 'monkeying around' thing."

Jamie sighed. "Monkeying around. You take all that time getting ready for a project and playing with it at each stage and admiring your work, when you could just put your nose to the grindstone and get it done."

Adam opened his mouth to protest.

Jamie held up a hand. "But I can accept that it helps you focus and understand the project, and that we have different styles of working. So don't take it as an insult. But try to get to work faster. We have a lot to do."

They spent the morning and early afternoon working in silence and made some headway, but even as they did, more new projects came in. Jamie just sighed and added them to the backlog.

* * *

In the early afternoon, Adam changed into one of the more formal outfits he'd purchased at Jamie's request. Jamie appraised him silently, then he nodded curtly. Adam decided to take that as overwhelming approval. They left the shop with a handcart of completed projects to deliver.

Adam realized two things pretty quickly:

1\. Jamie could have done this alone — Adam was just baggage.

and 

2\. Jamie wasted a lot of time by doing this at all.

Some of the clients were too elderly to come to the shop and pick up their items personally, but a lot of them simply seemed to think that they were above it, and so Jamie delivered their things to them. Several times they were invited inside to drink tea and chat, which Jamie did politely, talking about things and events and people that Adam didn't know anything about. Generally Jamie introduced Adam by some variant of, "This is Adam. He's my temporary assistant, until he finds something more permanent." And people would give him long, appraising looks, and then ignore him.

"Jamie, I'm going back to the shop to get back to work on that clock," Adam said after they left yet another house. He felt like a saint for enduring this as long as he had.

“What? But we’re not done?”

“Yeah, well you can easily handle the rest of this, and I'll go get some real work done. In case you forgot, there's a lot of it still waiting for us. Why do you put up with this, with everyone inviting you in and then going, _blah blah blah_." Adam waved his hand.

“It’s how things are done here. It’s part of business, building relationships with these people.”

“Look Jamie, seriously, that’s great for you. But I'm not even gonna be here much longer — I am your _temporary assistant_, remember — so what's the point of me doing this? Going house to house so everyone can stare at my freakish hair and gossip about Widow Muriel Whoever's affairs."

"Fine. Feel free to go back to the shop. Perhaps you'd missed the point, but I was introducing you to everyone for two reasons, and they were both for your own good. One, to help you find a job here in town, and two, so that in case I did decide to keep you on permanently, you'd have met my biggest clients and vice versa. But since you hate this so much, you don't have to waste any more time here." Jamie took the handcart and walked away, his ears and the back of his head (where it was visible under the strange black hat) were rather red, but otherwise he'd shown no sign of emotion.

Frustrated, Adam watched him go. Then turned and went back to the shop, full of restless, uncomfortable energy.

* * *

When Jamie finally came home, he was surprised to see Adam sitting outside the front door of the shop, engrossed in something. A woman had stopped and was watching what he did. Wasn't she from the pub? Catherine, or Carla or something? Other people walking by, women in their high collars and parasols and men in their three piece suits, looked on with curiosity but didn’t stop. Jamie frowned.

As Jamie got closer, he could see that Adam was roughing out the rose and oak design on a piece of wood. It looked decent so far. He had more tools and sketches and pieces of wood scattered around than Jamie thought necessary (a thing that seemed to be related to Adam's monkeying around). Adam hadn’t even changed out of his good clothes. He’d just taken off the jacket and tie and turned up his sleeves. His hair was red-blond in the sun. He didn't seem to have noticed Jamie. He was utterly engrossed in his work.

“Lose your key?” Jamie asked, even though he suspected that Adam hadn’t.

“Oh, Jamie,” Adam ignored the biting comment and even any tension left from their quarrel. “This is going so well. What do you think?” He held out his work.

“Nice,” Jamie said.

“Mr. Hyneman,” the young woman said, “I didn’t know your shop did such beautiful work. When I can afford it, I'm going to come to you guys. Some day when I have my dream house… I’ll have Adam carve every wall.” She smiled. “I better get going. I’ve got the late shift again.” She waved and Adam waved after her.

“You're working outside because...?” Jamie asked.

"'S nice out."

"You're taking up a good chunk of the sidewalk."

Adam looked up from his work, glanced at Jamie, then around at the street and the passerbys then at the shop. “I thought it would be good for business, too.”

“Good for business?”

“Yeah.” Adam rested his work on his knee. “You know, you don’t have a storefront or even a sign — you just have these two doors. People should see what we do.”

“Adam. We have more work than we know what to do with,” Jamie said.

“I know. But for the future. Somebody walks by and sees me doing this now will remember where to come in six months when they want some custom work done.”

Jamie looked at the door of his shop suddenly feeling that the battle was lost.

It was true, of course, that the shop didn't have much visibility. The street here made a sharp turn, and the shop had been built into the funny, wedge-shaped piece of no-man's-land between two older buildings, like an afterthought. It's front was barely wider than the door and tiny windows, between the front corners of the two other buildings. Inside, of course, the shop was plenty big, but from the street it didn't look like much.

But tactics like Adam's — sitting right out here on the sidewalk like a beggar — were just unheard of. Jamie didn't need more business. He'd never needed to advertise himself, and he'd gotten along just fine without a sign ever since his partner...

But Adam was working intently, and was doing a good job. Jamie left the apparently happy Adam to his work and went inside. The deliveries were finally done, leaving Jamie free to tackle some of the other projects. Maybe Adam had been right, that chit-chatting all afternoon in an attempt to keep his clients happy wasn't the best use of his time. The recent long hours and lack of sleep were starting to weigh heavily on him. His hands, his neck, his eyes — everything hurt from overwork.

Jamie changed into his work clothes, grabbed some gruel, and went back to his work. But his mind wandered.

A proper business had a sign. Maybe it was about time to put one back up.


End file.
